


Ask

by AilemaJSix



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Affairs, Demanding!Sansa, F/M, Happy Ending, Oral Sex, Permission, Sorry Not Sorry, it's mushy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AilemaJSix/pseuds/AilemaJSix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No detail was unaccounted for, and now it was simply time to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Had awesome beta work on the first half, second half its my own editing, sorry. Yes Sandor is a little mushy. I'm not sorry.
> 
> Sandor did not flee(completely) the battle of Blackwater. They just find him drunk out of his mind, passed out in a hallway, for our own amusement.

Sansa sipped her tea and enjoyed the afternoon in the garden with the queen. She laughed at the woman’s joke about Varys’ reflective head, and Margery made eye contact with Sansa. They spent many, even most, afternoons together. The woman had become the most satisfying presence in the castle, and Sansa was quite pleased that they had become best friends. She could almost forget what her life had been like still engaged to Joffery.  
Often, Sansa thought Margery was magical. Somehow through her subtle manipulations she had almost complete control over the barbaric king. Though his cruelty still existed, it was tamed and controlled by the woman his mother hated most. In addition to Margery’s efforts, Tywin pulled his own strings, and through their combined application Sansa had been protected like many others who resided in the castle. Once, as noted by the Queen, the King’s cruelty was being satiated by torturing prisoners in the dungeon of the Red Keep. Other kingdoms often brought the king prisoners from their own dungeons, and it was jokingly seen as a ‘peace offering’.  
Sansa often let the queen dress her now, and most of the ladies of the court followed suit and dressed like the ladies of high garden. She liked that they often matched, though; it almost felt like having Jeyne back.  
As the afternoon grew late, the ladies parted, and Sansa exited the gardens. Beside the archway in the hall stood the Hound, his eyes watching her as though there was always more to see. “Come little bird,” he would say in his rough baritone, and she would slip a hand through the crook of his elbow, allowing him to guide her to her chambers. He always made a small disapproving sound, but he never made a motion to reject her touch.  
She’s grown again, much to her chagrin, and found that her height could only be closer to that of Sandors. Her eyes were on level with his mouth, so when they walked side by side in the hall, they easily towered over any of the servant in the hall. If it were not for her small frame, she feared she would be compared to Brienne.  
She sensed his side glance at her, “So, did the Little Bird enjoy her visit outside of her cage?”  
“I did, as usual,” she remarked, sending her own glance his way, “it seems as though the queen has a strong desire for exotic clothing. It looks as though many of the ladies might be receiving a few new gowns. She really liked the ones from Pentos.”  
“And what are those like?”  
He was humoring her.  
She knew it.  
“They are long and flowing, and are often made from sheer layered silks. They hardly cover a lady’s back, but in the afternoon it would be a reprieve from the heat. I can see why the queen has the dresses with the cutout on the lower back.”  
“Sounds...interesting.”  
She smiled at him, bemused and appeased by his words.  
>:3  
It had been close to a year now that the Lady Sansa had wed a Lannister. Although she remained a maiden, most assumed Tyrion simply went to the brothels, and few knew the truth. Sansa knew that her Lord Husband was simply in love with her very own handmaiden.  
Now, as a very normal reaction, part of Sansa was jealous. It was not until months later after the initial discovery that she was not jealous that he loved Shae, but in fact that he had found a certain amount of happiness in their union. He stopped sleeping in her bed long ago, and often would disappear while Shae was off for the evening. As this continued, Sansa grew lonelier. She was happy that he had happiness and love, but she remained a virgin bride that wanted nothing to do-- physically-- with her husband.  
A bold notion entered her head some time ago. She looked up from her meal that she shared with him in their chambers every evening, considering the thought.  
Perhaps it was too bold. Even a little dangerous.  
"Tyrion."  
He looked up at her, almost startled that she was in fact addressing him at all. He stopped cutting his meat, something in her tone having informed him that she wanted to be serious. "Yes m'lady?"  
"I have a request. One that if fulfilled, I suspect that you would be in fact the only husband daring enough to do so," she gave a half smile, almost coy, seeing the interest in his eyes.  
"Do go on." He smiled, anticipating her next words.  
"First of all, I am well aware of your love of Shae," and had he had the decency to blush, he might have done so. "Part of me was jealous, but not that she held your attention so, but because regardless of our situation you had made the best of it. I might even be so bold to say that you had found happiness."  
"Well, I..."  
"Sh, I know you. You may have never have bedded me, but I know you. I see the plea in your eyes when she's near. Regardless," Sansa smoothed her dress in her lap, "I find that our societal customs quite biased, as I sure even your sister could agree, that it's accepted that a Lord Husband may sleep with whom he pleases.” They shared a bemused smile at her jibe at his sister, making fun of the Lannisters having become appropriate between the two of them.  
"I am requesting that you allow me to breach that wall, and allow me to take on a lover of my choosing. In exchange you may keep any bastards of your choosing, and may even bring them home for me to care for."  
There was a twinkle of amusement in his eye. Oh she was good. "What of any Bastards you might bare?"  
"They would be true Starks, and I request that their hold on Winterfell is secure, but have no bearing for Casterly rock, if that were to ever be an issue."  
She was really good.  
"I like your idea, but curiosity has me, do you have someone in mind for this?" He took a sip of his drink while never breaking eye contact.  
"No My Lord, I have no one in mind. I thought it smarter to ask before I decided to indulge."  
"You are too kind with your courtesies my Lady. How could I ever refuse such a well thought out request?” He ate a bite of meat, and looked at her thoughtfully, “as long as you promise discretion, I don’t see why you can’t break the rules. We might not have a typical marriage, but I don’t see why we can’t both be happy. I have one single request.”  
“What is it my Lord?”  
“Bare me at least one child before I die. It certainly does not have to be now, since I think you are still young, but years from now, give me that one gift.”  
A warm smile spread on her lips, “Yes Tyrion, I can do that for you. Maybe even more than one.”  
“I’d like that Sansa. I would really like that.”  
>:3  
All those who participated in the game of thrones were adept in manipulation. While Tyrion and Varys seeked to support what they saw as right for the kingdom, regardless of who was ruling, there were others like Tywin and Petyr that played for their own gains. Sansa stood on the sidelines, but had learned the ways. She could now get what she wanted, and be safer for it.  
Eleven months ago at a dinner between the Lannisters and Tyrells, there were snickers heard at one end of the table. Sansa retold the story of Arya flinging food at her during the feast in which the Starks welcomed the King to Winterfell. Looking back at the story now, she could appreciate the humor now that it was no longer over casted by her affections for Joffery.  
Margery grew still as the Hound drew near their end of the table, “Why is he coming near us?”  
Sansa gave a polite chuckle, flicking a glance at the man in question, “Joffery thinks that I’m afraid of him, and asks him loom around me on occasion.”  
“And you’re not afraid of him?” Margery asked, quite surprised, “He’s grotesque, to put it lightly.”  
“Illyn Pane scares me far more than Sandor ever could.”  
“The silent man, yes? He’s quite gruesome as well, I suppose...”  
Sansa let a smirk slip, “Margery, if he scares you so, why don’t you ask Joffery to be rid of him? Surely the Kingsguard is sufficient in their duties to take care of him. You can even suggest giving him to us, as a late wedding present. I am sure that would amuse him greatly.”  
The distinct feeling of being watched washed over her as she knew Sandor was close enough to hear the conversation. She wanted to look at him and read his expression, but she knew even if she did there would nothing there to betray his emotion.  
“Sansa, are you sure he doesn’t bother you?”  
“Not at all, I’ve grown quite accustomed to his presence, and I don’t find him unpleasant. Though he is definitely one to be brutally honest,” Sansa laughed her airy laugh, the one he commonly recognized to assure the others around her that she was fine.  
“I shall address the issue tonight then.”  
“As it pleases you, Your Grace.”  
>:3  
Sansa smiled to herself as she played with her hair while she laid out on the bed. Tyrion had left to be in Shae’s company a while ago, and she remained alone in the chambers singing aloud for anyone to hear. Specifically her guard outside the door. It amused her to recall Sandor’s reaction the following day that she had gained him from Joffery.  
“You think you’re so clever playing the Queen like that?”  
She put on her best expression of surprise, “Me? Play the Queen? How could you ever come to such a conclusion? Why would it bother you so much which Lannister has you, anyway? Do you not want me?”  
He practically stormed away in frustration, almost like a child, or Joffery.  
“I can still see how he might influenced some of the boy when he was younger,” she murmured aloud after finishing the hymn she was singing. She slipped out of her bed, and put on a robe over her night slip.  
Opening the door of her chambers, she was greeted by the heady scent of wine and leather. Sandor stood guard, and looked at her with a question visible on his face.  
“Escort me to the gardens tonight Hound, it is a full moon, and it feels far too stuffy to remain in the chambers the whole night.” He said nothing, and simply bowed to the request. As usual she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked quietly to the gardens.  
“Quit giving me that look.”  
“What look, Little Bird?”  
"Hound, you always give me a look quite different from everyone else. The court and staff look at me knowing that I have yet to lay with my Lord Husband," her blue gaze pierced his darker one, "but you look at me as though..."  
"As though if he lets you get away with it, you will never lay with your dear Lord Husband," as though a failed attempt in trying not to smile, a small twitch to the corner of his lips occurred.  
No Sandor, you look at me like you might consume me like a little morsel.  
She raised a brow at his statement, "And what if we were just playing the entire court?"  
"And are you?" His interest in the maiden always having been bred out of a strange sense of curiosity and desire to keep her in one piece. More often than not, he also noted that it was probably unhealthy for him to even have a tinge of affection for the Lady, but it was a thought often dismissed under the company of Bronn and wine.  
“Despite our unconventional marriage, our company with one another isn’t unpleasant. I still find myself unwilling to be bedded by him though, especially since it is my handmaiden he loves so. Though I am sure you knew most of that.”  
“Aye,” was all he said.  
“So how are you liking being our guard?”  
He did not answer immediately. She asked him every so often, and I suppose it was because he gave her a different answer each time.  
“I do not mind having to remain in your presents.”  
“Sandor, you tease me for my courtesies, yet you seem to have some of your own. Are you being truthful with me Ser?”  
“Do not ca--”  
“Call you Ser, yes yes, I know. You must know I do it to get a rise out of you, yes?”  
At that moment the Hound was ashamed to feel the embarrassment burning on his cheeks from being played by the little bird. He was thankful for the darkness.  
They stopped at the gazebo, and slipped into the mild darkness only broken by a single lit candle. “Thank you,” she softly spoke. She was not thanking him for any one action, he knew that by now, for she thanked him often. Just for his presents it seemed. A quiet gasp left him as she hugged him suddenly, his body unknowingly embraced her back. Her warmth and scent were pleasant, and more than desired. The Lady Stark, as he mentally referred to her as, was perfect for him.  
He always thought he was being selfish to even consider the notion. She was though. Tall and graceful. In her growth she became witty and able to reciprocate comebacks to his remarks and teases. He even selfishly considered that she was singing just for him while he was on guard duty when no one was around. Fiercely into his thoughts he embraced her much tighter without consideration of what she might do or say, one hand pressed against the small of her back while the other pressed her bosom into his chest.  
A small gasp escaped her, but she simply rested her face further into the crook of his neck. They stood together for a very long time, the only sounds were that of the insects in the gardens and their own breaths. Idly, her finger toiled through the hair hanging down his back, and she hummed lightly.  
“Little bird,” he mumbled, “I should get you back to your room, to be found like this might compromise you too much.”  
She nodded, and he escorted her back to her chambers.  
>:3  
It was a few mornings later that Shae smiled brightly at Sansa, and she could only assume that Tyrion had informed her of their agreement. She dressed her normally, they broke their fast, and the day went on as any other day would.  
She did not spend her afternoon with Margery, but instead dined with Shae alone, like they were having their own private girl’s time. Early evening Tyrion joined them, and Shae attempted to flee their presence to give them alone time. Sansa only said to her, “Nonsense,” and pulled her back.  
“Counting you, I only have four close friends, and if I can share my presence with more than one of them, then all the merrier for me.”  
Tyrion rose his brow, certainly abashed to being considered one of her close friends.  
The night grew on, and they all played cards and drank more wine then the two women were used to. Sansa’s giggles filled the room, and Shae’s rich laughter accompanied it. Tyrion clumsily patted the seat on both sides of him, and they joined him on the bench. Sometime during the evening Sansa’s dress had been replaced with a gown similar to Shae’s, only a darker blue.  
“The two most beautiful women in my life. Ah, life is too sweet,” he stroked both of their backs, “and better yet, I don’t have to pay for your company.”  
“But Tyrion,” Shae spoke, her accent thick, “you do pay for us! Just look at the wardrobe your Lady has! And my fine trinkets.”  
“All worth it to see your glow,” he placed a chaste kiss on each of their cheeks, and they smiled.  
“Shae, you are my handmaiden, and my friend. I have a request.”  
“What is it my m’lady?”  
“I do not desire to be a fool whenever I may take a lover. Teach me about love making Shae.” Her cheeks burned with a blush, from embarrassment or wine, no one could truly tell.  
“I can tell you anything you want to know.”  
“Show me.”  
“Should I be closing my eyes and covering my ears?” Tyrion leaned in to the bench more, and watched the women from a lowered angle.  
Shae got up and lead Sansa to the bed. She laid her down, and straddled the young girl’s hips. “Do you know anything about your own pleasure?” Shae asked, and Sansa shook her head. “For you to ever understand how to pleasure another person, you must be able to bring pleasure to yourself, and know what pleasures you.” Shae lowered the straps to Sansa’s dress, and spread her hands and fingers seductively down her body. Shae smiled at Sansa’s bashful expression, wondering if the young girl would sober soon. She leaned against her body and traced light kisses and tongue caresses over the girl’s neck and collarbone, all while a single hand delicately massaged her breast.  
Sansa moaned involuntarily at the attention, having never felt anything like this. Shae worked her mouth southward and suckled on a nipple gently. “Shae!” Sansa yelled as her attention was diverted to the hand easing up the leg of her dress.  
“Now Sansa, if a man can’t pleasure you like this, he’s no good. You will not always orgasm when he fucks you, but if he can’t do this right, he’s no good at all. Don’t ever lay with the same man twice if he can’t get the job done,” and with her last word she slipped her thumb over her maiden’s lip, eliciting small yelp as her hips thrusted upward.  
Tyrion stared at amazement. He had seen similar situations between two women, usually paid, but nothing as genuine as the wantonness of his wife and lover. He left his seat and slipped between Shae’s legs hanging off the bed, if only to stroke her skin.  
Shae quickly brought the young maiden to release, her calls echoing in the chamber. Soon only their breathes filled the silence. Sansa sat up on her elbow, her small breast still uncovered, “I think I understand why women do some very unladylike things.”  
Tyrion made it up onto the bed. He could not help but admire the beauty of the two women, “Shae I’ve never seen anything so perfect.”  
Sansa blushed, a mild sense of modesty making her feel a little weary. Part of her wanted to cover up, but she realized that regardless of her state of undress, it was Shae he still had eyes for. “Can you do something similar...to what you did to me for a man?”  
“If your modesty would allow it, I could show you on your husband.”  
“Don’t call him my husband, not while we’re together like this. He is just Tyrion right now.”  
>:3  
No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he simply could not drown out Sansa’s moans from beyond the door. He heard snippets of the conversation, and he could tell that Shae was the one behind the actions causing Sansa to moan shamelessly loud. Comfort was found in the fact that he was at this post alone, and he could enjoy those sounds.  
After almost an hour of lewd sounds from beyond the door, Tyrion and Shae eventually left the room together. The room was silent for several long minutes before he heard sound of her opening the balcony doors. A moment later, she called to him.  
“Sandor, open that door please.”  
He did as he was bid, and opened the door. She only had a few candles lit as she sat at the table with a goblet of water. Her hair was unkempt and her gown was slightly askew. She must have fallen asleep for a moment, and then got up for some air, he thought to himself. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, and was stabbed with kindling of desire.  
Sansa looked like woman.  
Her skin was still flushed, her hair mussed, and her curves were revealed by the nature of her dress. In his mind’s eyes, he could almost imagine her screaming with no abandon as he pleasured her in the all the ways he knew how.  
“It’s too strange for you too be standing there while I am sitting. Please, come here.” She pushed the chair out across from her using her foot under the table, and he sat in it. She poured more water for herself, but then leaned in to pour wine for him. A silence loomed over them, and neither could decide if it was an uncomfortable one or not.  
“Sandor,” Sansa spoke softly.  
“Aye.”  
“Have you lain with many women?”  
“A fair handful is all.”  
“I see.”  
Against everything that was right, silence continued, and Sandor could not help but wonder why she would ask such a question. She looked out the balcony, and hummed lightly what sounded to be a sad tune.  
“Regardless of the companionships I have, I still feel alone. Empty almost.”  
There was no right reply he could muster, so he said nothing.  
“Tonight was the first time I didn’t feel completely alone, but despite what I’ve learned in my drunken state, I realize that I still don’t want to lay with Tyrion still, and that I don’t have anyone to love like he and Shae. I’ve been opened up to a whole realm of experiences, but have no one to share it with.”  
He got up and rounded the table to lead her away from her seat, “Go to sleep little bird, no use dwelling on such things, especially having drunk so much wine.”  
“I’m quite sober to be honest, that’s why I am so sad,” she claimed, stumbling into him as she lost her footing. Instead of allowing him to lead her any further she hugged him tightly, resting her face into the crook of his neck, if only to hide her expression. “Thank you,” she whispered, her lips grazing the junction of his neck and jaw.  
He felt like his skin was on fire. Instinctively his body pulled her in closer, and in took the heat and scent from her body.  
“Stay with me tonight, please.”  
Despite the ‘please’, it was an order, he could tell by the tone in her voice. She detached from him slowly and walked to the door, closing it and bolting it. He watched her warily and was surprised when she approached him again, but this time it was to remove his armor. He said nothing and helped her with the removal. She stopped him at his tunic after he got his boots off and once again Sansa hugged him. It felt very different without the barriers of his armor, and felt the tender softness of her body against his for the first time.  
“I don’t want to be alone tonight, please don’t leave.”  
“I won’t leave, but of the morning when your handmaidens arrive to wake you?”  
“It won’t be an issue,” was all that she murmured as she stepped away bringing him to the bed. The blankets were pulled back and she climbed in, and he followed. As if it were completely natural she fit in the spot under his shoulder and rest against him. Sleep took her quickly as she relaxed to the threading of his fingers through her loose strands of hair and the comforting sound of his heart beat, notifying her that she was not alone.  
>:3  
Not once could Sandor remember having ever slept so well. He was not even sure as a child that he had ever felt so much comfort from simply laying in bed. It was still fairly early, breakfast was likely just being served, which to say was pretty early for him. He pushed his face further into what he presumed was mostly pillow, and found that it was instead Sansa’s auburn hair. It smelled of roses and lavender, and as always, something else he did not know. He pulled her form in closer and looked at her in the sunlight.  
“Is it late?” Sansa mumbled, her body moving into his, “I think I am still tired.”  
“It’s early little bird, go back to sleep if you’d like. I won’t leave if you don’t want.”  
Her body uncoiled and she stretched out straight against him, then rolled over to face him. His hair laid haphazardly across his scars, and there was a small smirk on his lips. Those lips had always given her small smiles at unexpected times. His arms wrapped around her waist to pull her in closely yet again. She obliged and settled into him again, and he held in a groan as her thigh pressed into him. He had been trying to ignore how hard he was, but it started to hurt. Her head fell back into his arm as she started to drift off again, her arm thrown up above her head.  
She looked like an invitation.  
Hair thrown across the pillow, her dress shifted in such a way that he got a fair glance at her breast that was uncovered, and single milky thigh thrown over his. This lady of court laid in his arms, and all he had ever wanted to do for her was to keep her safe from the King. Temptation led him astray, and he ghosted a few fingers over the exposed skin of her side and trailed against her back. She let out a hum of appreciation, and he continued to idly trace figures on the exposed skin.  
His daring would only get him so far as he faltered at the revealed breast. The things he wanted to do. The things he could do. The thing he should not do. Sandor soon found that with Sansa laying his arms he was tormented and torn. He knew she was not his, but then why was he even there in the first place? Was he simply a man to tease and torture with her womanly ways, or did she find some strange solace in her companionship with him? Did she think him a friend, or a potential...?  
“Sandor, you seem very stressed, is something wrong?” Her big blue eyes looked into him like never before, he would almost think her coy, but she truly had an underlying innocents that always seemed to remain. “If you would like to continue...touching my skin, you may do so. It felt very nice.”  
Everything in him told him to question why he was there, and what she wanted of him. She stared into his eyes quite deeply, and he started to relax again. Without even trying she had gotten him completely worked up, and then calmed. He then rolled onto his knees, one leg between her thighs while the arm she rested on curled to hold her head. His body hovered over her, and now that he had moved, he had no idea what to do.  
He knew what he would normally done, but that was not what he wanted to do. Almost shyly, he tilted her chin upwards and kissed her neck while his hand absently slid her dress down to reveal her chest to him. He felt her breath hitch as he lightly slid his thumb over her rosy nipple. Slowly he kissed down the valley of her breasts, and made his way to each globe giving them equal attention. Small moans left her throat at the ministrations of his tongue twirling on each tip. He stopped soon after though and just breathed. He looked up at her, and found her eyes boring into him again. She had been biting her bottom lip, and her whole face was flushed.  
Her arm wrapped around his neck, and drew him back up to her. Hesitance was lifted away as they made eye contact again and leaned into one another for a kiss. One kiss. Two kisses. A hunger the Stark girl had never known bloomed in her as she stole more kisses from the Clegane man. Reverently they kissed one another as they wrapped themselves in each other, an unsettling warmth spreading from her groin outward. She bit him, and he bit back. He tasted her lips with his tongue, and she replied the same. They stopped eventually having run out of breath, and Sandor looked up confused as to when she ended up on him.  
Straddle across his hips she sat, her dress still pulled down in the front and her face flushed even more so. She tilted against his erection, and he groaned from the heat of her core being to close. “Little bird, you must slow down, or else I’ll take that maidenhood of yours. What would your Lord Husband think of that?”  
Modesty clashed with the feeling of being so worshipped by his eyes. If she was not already wet in her nether regions, she would have been when he looked at her like that. “What if I said that he has given me permission to take on my own lovers?” She whispered it, and Sandor did not believe what she said.  
“Do not tease a man with such words!” He growled, grabbing her arms tightly at her statement.  
“But it’s true, we discussed it not too long ago. An agreement was made,” she spoke softly as he released his grip, her hips involuntarily grinded against him.  
He knew in his mind he should be questioning more, but his brain shut down feeling her hot moisture. In curiosity he lifted her dress and found no underclothes. “Little bird, are you sure you know what you are doing?” He managed to choke out.  
“Well, I suppose not entirely, but I’m sure that you might be able to help with that if it goes that far...” she gave him a coy smile, and he growled again, bringing her down so he could kiss her once more. He relentlessly assaulted her lips, nipped at her neck and sucked her shoulder and collarbone as he lost all of his control to her. On top once again, Sandor returned his attention to her breasts, which earned more whimpers of his name.  
The sound of someone clearing their throat resounded in the room suddenly. They both stopped what they were doing to look for the source. A very smug looking Shae stood with her arms crossed, “You have all the maids worried because of your locked door, and they went to fetch me.”  
“How did she...?” Sandor looked at Sansa, the question of how Shae had gotten into the room was dancing in his eyes. It caused him to completely forget himself and their appearance.  
If Sansa blushed no one knew. She sat up and fixed her dress, “Have I been summoned?”  
“The Queen has requested your presence at breakfast.”  
Sansa bit her lip and considered what to say and do. Her gaze met Sandor’s and his brow furrowed with curiosity. Leaning in, she gave him one last kiss, “You’ll have to get dressed; I really shouldn’t decline her request.” She started to adjust her dress. “There is a secret door behind the bookshelf in my solar that leads down to the gardens. Shae if you would show him the way after he is ready. Do I have time for a bath?”  
“Mm, I’d say not, m’lady. You’ve kept the maids out for a good amount of time.”  
“I see. Alright then.” Her gown pooled at her feet as she slid it off, stopping Sandor in his tracks for a moment while he pulled on his boots. Shae gave him a knowing grin and started to dress Sansa in a grey-silver sleeveless dress. Sandor knew that he needed to leave before he forced Shae out of the room so he could finally take Sansa as his own. He stared at his feet as he fumbled with the ties and soon departed with one last look at her.  
A silence hung through the air and Shae could only get more smug.  
“You look like a cat who just caught the bird, Shae. If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”  
“You’re absolutely glowing. You look beyond radiant today. Did you two even...?”  
“No, no,” Sansa blushed, “he stayed with me all night and we fell asleep in each other’s arms. Then this morning, we were... exploring.”  
“Well did he explore down there?”  
“We never really got that far.” They made eye contact in the mirror and Shae smiled causing Sansa to realize she had never stopped smiling. “I haven’t slept that well since I was home in Winterfell. Is that what it is suppose to be like?”  
“Oh yes, and more. If I am too bold, tell me, but when I am with Tyrion...he fills me with a security few could ever feel in this dangerous place.”  
“I have always felt that...with Sandor. He has saved me a great many times.”  
>:3  
Ollena seemed to be extra snarky today with her constant snide remarks directed at the servants. There was very little to please her apparently, and Margery could only smile and laugh at the poor servers in their attempts.  
“No, I will not take any more tea. Did you not hear me when I spoke to that one over there? Seven hells, just give me a glass of wine just so I can manage you imbeciles!” Margery and Sansa laughed together, their smiles bright with amusement. “So Margery,” Ollena started, “are you going to bear any children soon?”  
“I don’t rightly know. It could be later. Joffery’s interests seem to lay somewhere outside the bedroom.” Ollena scoffed, and then turned her attention to Sansa.  
“What of you child? Is he even big enough to break your maidenhood?”  
Sansa broke out in a fit laughter, “It certainly looks that way, though I’m not sure whether or not I wish to be bedded by him yet!” She covered her mouth, feeling mildly embarrassed by her admittance. “I believe we’re much happier without the bed being involved.”  
“Then what could have you so happy today, child?” Ollena pressed. “You’re chirping like one of those birds from the Summer Isles!”  
“If you don’t find it too bold, my handmaiden said the same thing this morning. I slept incredibly well last night.”  
“I heard that your maids couldn’t get in at all! They had to fetch that one handmaiden… Shae,” Margery chimed, giving a knowing smile. “You slept well indeed if you couldn’t hear their commotion. One came to me, ‘She’s got her door locked and everything, Your Grace. We don’t know what to do!’ she squeaked.”  
“I had no idea that my absence could cause such an uproar. And here I am usually asleep well into afternoon!”  
“Well, had I known what a heavy sleeper you were I would have called you for lunch, instead!”  
Sansa’s eyes suddenly found a towering dark figure. There was a subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth but she hoped no one could see how happy she was as Sandor approached them. A sigh left the Queen, “Sansa I’m not sure I fare any better with the Hound’s constant presence.”  
“Your Grace, what worries you so? What about him has you so scared?”  
“He never smiles, dear, and a man who never smiles cannot be all that sound.”  
“Oh, he smiles-- it’s but a rare occasion.”  
“You mean when he has claimed victory,” she entailed.  
“Margery, you doubt his standing as a man? Hound, come here please,” she commanded politely. He was promptly at her side. “Hound, please tell me, when was the last time you smiled?”  
“This morning m’lady.”  
“Could you tell us as to why?”  
“A pleasant dream.”  
“See there you have it, Your Grace. He is more than capable of smiling outside of battle.” Sansa caught the involuntary twitch of his scarred lip and knew it was a smirk he saved for her eyes only. She could not help but relish in her power over him. Margery gave a questioning glance at Sansa, almost like she suspected something, but Sansa played the Little Bird so well now, her expression coy and sweet.  
“Alright, I believe you.”  
“Thank you,” Sansa said turning to Sandor. “You may go now.”  
>:3  
“With the Hound?”  
“Yes, Tyrion, that’s what I said,” Shae humphed, annoyed with his lack of belief.  
“You saw him. With Sansa. In bed.” He paced as he repeated her words. “They did not fuck, but you found them in bed together this morning in a kissing frenzy and both in a state of undress?”  
“Exactly, m’Lord.”  
“She literally picked the biggest man in the castle as opposed to being with me, the shortest.”  
“You know that they are both quite close in height, Tyrion. It isn’t exactly your fault that you ended up with the tallest woman in court, not including Lady Brienne of Tarth.”  
“I feel like my father’s choice in this marriage only mocks me more.”  
“Do you disapprove of her choice?”  
“I can’t really say I oppose. He isn’t of particularly high standing. We’re both strangely grotesque in our own ways and, despite our dislike of each other, I do respect the man. He did tolerate my little shit of a nephew, after all.”  
“Well I am glad that you do not oppose, because she seems far too happy for you to refuse her.”  
>:3  
The Red Keep was strangely empty on this particular day. A lot of the castle’s workers were busy elsewhere, it seemed, and many Lords had joined Jofferey on his grand hunt. The Ladies who remained sat quietly in the Queen’s solar. Sansa had woken up late and intended to join the other ladies for the afternoon after a quick stroll. The Hound had, as always, made a noise of disapproval of her arm threaded through his, but said nothing. Only the sounds of their steps were heard, and in the gardens they could hear the trickle of water in the fountain and songs of birds in the distance.  
There was an air of weariness that surrounded the Hound when he tried not to make too much conversation with Sansa. Their walking was idle and slow, and he could only question her motives as she suddenly peered around as if checking for people that could be around.  
Grabbing his hand suddenly, she pulled him into a well shaded nook in the garden, making them invisible to the casual glance. He gave her a hard look, suspecting her to be up to no good. “Little Bird, what are you doing?” He whispered, a mild twinge of discomfort present.  
“I wish for you to kiss me again… like we did before in my chambers.” She snaked her arms around his neck and brought her lips close to his.  
He gripped her sides, his nerves showing. “Yesterday morning should not have happened. That night should not have happened. It was wrong for me to have joined you in your bed.” His tone was hushed and she could hear a certain amount of doubt laced within his own words.  
“So, you won’t do it again?”  
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t, no. I should stop escorting you as well. In hind sight of that morning, I was too forward with you.”  
“Shouldn’t.”  
“What?” He looked very confused.  
“You said you shouldn’t, not that you couldn’t or wouldn’t.”  
He stood rigid, attempting to step away from her and put some space between the two of them. “I cannot be in your presence if you are pursuing me like this.”  
She looked hurt, almost pouting at his statement.  
“I order you to keep me company.” She took a step forward.  
“I decline.” Sandor took a step back.  
“You can’t decline.” Forward.  
“I am deliberately disobeying you.” Back.  
“Your body lies Sandor.” Forward.  
He flushed red at the Little Bird’s words, not believing that she would ever be so forward.  
“I don’t know what you mean.” Backward. Wall.  
She pinned him, her hips pressing intentionally on his erect length. Sansa gave him a simple chaste kiss, and he did not respond. Disappointment became present in her features and she took a step away.  
“I thought you were a good choice for a lover... I suppose I was wrong.”  
“You were more wrong than you could ever be about any choice you’ve made. I am rough, unappealing and in addition to that you are inexperienced wherein I have bedded whores and would not know how to treat a Lady of the court.”  
“I see... perhaps I should reconsider and lay with my husband, or perhaps seek out a Lord to take in as a lover. I hear Lord Baelish is returning;I could find out if he truly fancied me after all.” Sandor said nothing. She started to walk a little in the small hidden spot. “Or maybe there is a squire I could take in, I’ve heard some very pleasing things about Podrick.”  
The Hound grew tense, but he clenched his jaw.  
“I know. Bronn would most likely never decline such an offer,” Sansa continued. “He definitely comes off as the type to be into ‘deflowering maidens’--!”  
Sandor grabbed her by the shoulder and their lips crashed together in a rough kiss, and then broken almost immediately. “Baelish is a liar who only lusts for you for your blood-- you’re a Tully and a Stark,” he assaulted her jaw and ear with kisses and nips. “Podrick is a fool, and would never understand the discretion needed,” his hands slid down her back and squeezed her arse firmly while his tongue busied itself with the curve of her breast. “Bronn would never be faithful to you.” He kissed her lips again and they separated in desire to feel his hot tongue taste her. Sandor’s lips moved in fervor against hers, similar to that of a thirsty man drinking water, but after a few minutes, they parted, panting heavily. He grabbed her chin to look her in the eye, “And I would kill any man that touched you the way I have.”  
>:3  
“My wife, have you read of anything of interest lately?”  
“I have, actually. I was reading about Pentos and the other Free Cities of Essos. The new gowns the Queen had requested for the celebration of her upcoming name day arrived this afternoon. Even some of the handmaidens are receiving a new dress or two, including Shae.”  
“I see. I do recall going over that order in the accounts.”  
“Is the King’s treasury recovering at all?”  
“At a slow and steady pace,” he quipped. “I am quite proud of my handy work, if I do say so myself. Even Varys is impressed.”  
“That is good.”  
“And I am quite impressed with you. Varys has not caught wind of your activities, even though you are still the height of conversation after what occurred but a few weeks ago.”  
“You asked discretion of me and you got it. I fear Varys will eventually find out, though I’m not sure he’ll really do anything with the information. He is more concerned with other matters, as it is. That Daenerys is really riling up fur, so to speak.”  
“She sure is, my Lady. Now, if you may excuse me for the night,” he spoke wiping his face down from wine and slipping out the door. Not long after Tyrion left, there was a polite knock on the door. Sansa calmed herself and held back from skipping to the door.  
Her heart fluttered like it did every time he showed up at her door for the past two weeks. He was not present every night to avoid suspicion, but she saw him as often as she could. He locked the door behind himself and barely made a step in the room when she crushed Sandor to her with a hug. Sansa inhaled his scent deeply – less wine and more leather now – and smiled into his neck. His eyes raked over her appearance, pleased that she wore nothing but a night shift. The thin fabric teased his eyes by giving almost every detail. “I love this hair of yours. When I see this color, I only know it as your hair.” The strands he picked up ran through his fingers and back down her back. Their eyes met, happiness evident in her eyes from his comment.  
He never said very much, but whatever he did say was meaningful and honest. “Tomorrow night is the celebration for Margery's name day. She ordered all the ladies’ dresses from Pentos.”  
“You mean the ones you mentioned two weeks ago with the low backs and sheer silks?”  
Surprise shone in her eyes as he recalled their conversation from so long ago. “Indeed, how very perceptive of you.”  
“You have no idea Little Bird,” he picked her up to place her on the bed. “When you described such dresses, before this ordeal of ours, I was worried about having to be present while you wore such a dress.” He started to remove his armor piece by piece.  
“Should I wear it for you now, so as to prepare you for tomorrow night?”  
“No, I'll survive just fine, though I do feel inclined to ask if you might reward me at the end of the night.”  
“Why is that?”  
“I'll have to fight an army for you, because regardless of your marriage status men are going to flutter by just to have a look at you.”  
“Let them look; they cannot touch.”  
“Just because they should not does not mean they cannot.” Possessively he grabbed her, pulling her into his chest, a contented moan escaped her lips as she nestled into his embrace.  
Together they laid in contentment. What they had felt was like another form of companionship. She had intimacy with her closest friends, but now she knew what passion was. She sat up, and he followed after, wondering what she was up to. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, and she slid it off of him. Usually their frolicking took place in the morning, but something stirred in Sansa. Like she could not wait any longer to feel his skin and heat against her own. He busied his own hands with the removal of her gown, and his lips soon followed after in their eagerness to taste her skin.  
The dress slid further and further down, as did his mouth. He nipped at her hip bones and kissed down her thighs. She looked down at him, curious as to what he could possibly doing.  
He continued trailing light kisses and bites on her inner thigh. Taking his time down each thigh he reached the knee, and then dragged tongue up almost to her maidenhood. Sansa hummed in her enjoyment of the intimacy, but felt her breath catch as he did something completely new and different.  
Oh.  
A moan found its way out of her throat as she threw her head back. She was acquainted with his fingers, but his mouth was a whole new experience. Her fingers gripped the sheets as she panted, tossing her head back and forth, “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted as Sandor sucked her pearl and teased her core. He pulled her thighs up on either side of his head and gripped her hips to keep her in place. Slowly he drew his tongue up the seam of her lips, and delved lightly as he heard her pleas of helplessness. Release was found soon after as he gave focus to her most sensitive spot finally.  
Gently he kissed up her body as she panted, but was halted when she sat up. “I need more, get those breeches off now!” He stared at her shocked, having never seen her so fervid. Clumsily he started to undo his laces, and Sansa lost all patients. She sat up and practically ripped the cloth at the seams, and he finally grasped her urgency and slipped out of his breeches much quicker than could recall ever doing. She laid back down and he was nestled between her thighs. Her chest rose up and down with her breathing, her eyes pleading with need. He lifted her hips towards his tip, and looked down into her eyes. He was sobered completely by her intense gaze, and she smiled at him with her one particular smile, the one that she wore with any victory.  
Pressing into her, she closed her eyes and tried to relax, her breathing building up in anticipation. He eased into her with little issue as he felt how moist her folds were still. Once he reached her barrier, he gave one firm push past it and he nearly choked from the tightness. “Oh, Seven Hells Sansa,” he looked as though he wanted to say more, but it was lost in the clutching of her muscles around his cock. She gasped, her eyes wide with a mixture of pain and completion. Steadily he pounded into her slickness, and with every hit of her cervix she screamed louder and louder. He held her thighs against his chest and changed the angle, and she seemed to be completely lost in his motions. Helplessly she gripped the headboard as though she were going to fall apart from the pleasure.  
Drawing closer and closer he tried to concentrate at the precise moment to withdraw. Sandor knew he wanted to fill her with his child, a strange thought to him indeed, but focused hard on not losing it. His eyes widened as he felt her sit up on the support of her arms, “Harder,” she whispered, instinctively he obliged. He murmured aloud, “Fuck, fuck,” as the concentration he had before was soon vanishing at the wanton and needy image of Sansa asking him to go harder.  
Sansa’s moaning of ‘More, more, more,’ he soon felt her reach climax, which was finished by a ‘Yes, yes!’, and it drew him to his end. Almost forgetting, he pulled out in time to release himself. Their heavy breathing filled the room, and Sandor collapsed beside her. Using her discarded night slip she wiped off the fluids and threw it on the ground. Sansa felt Sandor pull her close to his body, and they exchanged chaste kisses.  
“That was far more amazing than I thought it would be,” she breathed out, and only nodded in agreement.  
Sandor was still haunted by his thought during their session, and after a few moments he asked, “Sansa, what do you plan to do if you end up...bearing a child?”  
“Any child of mine will be a child of Winterfell, regardless of who the father is. Part of the agreement between Tyrion and I is that I eventually bare him at least one child. That child will be the true heir, but my other children will not be deprived of Winterfell if that child does not survive.”  
Sandor swallowed at the information. He never really cared for the notion of having children, but something about Sansa stirred that idea. Silence hung over them as they held each other, and Sandor felt nervous. A child. She might be willing to have a child for him. He groaned inwardly at the conflicting thought in his head. He certainly was not father material. It was Sansa though. And she was married to another. This beautiful woman that he just deflowered.  
Oh hells, he took her maidenhood.  
“How did you convince me to take your maidenhood? How did you get Tyrion to follow along with your idea?”  
Sansa blushed at his gruff voice and concerned eyes.  
“He wanted me to be happy.”  
He was stunned. “Do I...make you happy?”  
A small nod was all that she answered with.  
Without any further words he buried his face into her hair once more, inhaling deeply. She pulled up a sheet as a chill started to settle into the room. Sleep slipped into their bodies as idle touches and caressing put them to sleep in comfort and peace.  
>:3  
Sansa stared out the window as she listened to the handmaidens bustle around the chamber readying her bath for the afternoon. She sat in her chair, the lunch spread still sitting out. After some time, they disappeared, and only Shae remained. Sansa stripped down and entered the warm water while Shae readied her soaps.  
“So you left me quite a mess this morning my lady,” she knowingly spoke, having been in the room after Sandor’s departure to retrieve the sheets and other laundry. “You are a maiden no more, I see.”  
“No, I suppose not,” she smiled at the thought, the memories of the night before warming her.  
“You have to tell me now, how was it? Did he do everything right?”  
“Shae he used his mouth. If that wasn’t right, then we can be wrong.”  
“Sansa, he didn’t! He is so much more daring than I gave him credit to be. There are not very men who will do that...and do it right.”  
“After he did that...I became this begging mess Shae, I nearly ripped his breeches right off. Thinking back on it, it was so foreign to me to feel like that. I thought I was going to die if he didn’t fill me up.”  
“He definitely did it right.”  
They both laughed and Shae continued to wash her Lady. After she finished the bath, she brought out a few things rolled in a leather pouch. Sansa looked at her questioningly, and Shae could only say, “The things women do for beauty.”  
>:3  
The night air was crisp and fresh; the sea breeze brought a mild chill to the warm summer air. The entire garden glowed with light and murmurs of conversations floated along the breeze. Wafts of wine and fruits filled the air and, before the sun had set, many people had arrived bearing gifts for the Queen. Servants milled about carrying trays of foreign foods and toting the gifts given.  
Tyrion and Sansa descended their tower together, Shae tailing behind to keep her lady's dress from getting too dirty. Sansa's gown consisted of a gold collar, pale blue silks descending down the front and gathering just on her lower back. A gold cord wrapped around her waist to keep the fabric from slipping away. Shae matched similarly except for the gown was a sea green and copper finishings, just like all of the other handmaidens.  
Margery stood on a raised platform in the center of the garden, Joffery by her side, and lords and ladies surrounded her with praise and sweet words, praising her originality and uniqueness. Her dress was a rose red, and was adorned with golden trinkets and in addition to the style she had sleeves that flowed with her movements.  
Together Sansa and Tyrion approached the king and queen. As soon as Margery had spotted Sansa, she glided down the platform to hug her friend with a big smile. “Sansa, I am so glad to see you! And what did I say? That gown is so much more befitting than your larger ones. They hide your figure while this flaunts it much more wonderfully, doesn’t it Lord Tyrion?”  
“I couldn’t agree more, Your Grace, and if I might be so bold, you look as lush as a rose in bloom.”  
“Indeed, Your Grace, you glow with such a red!” Sansa smiled at her, and saw the twinkle in Margery’s eyes.  
“You two are so kind,” she kissed them both on the cheek, “and I hear that there has been developments for you two?”  
“Have you?” Tyrion questioned, looking up at Sansa and meeting her gaze.  
“Word is that you have finally consummated your marriage,” she spoke smugly, and rose a brow at her friend.  
Sansa felt a lump in her throat, and was relieved that Tyrion could speak. “Indeed, Your Grace, it was...quite an affair.” Tyrion knowingly smirked at Sansa, and she burned with embarrassment.  
“If I may ask, how did you find out?” Sansa asked bashfully, smoothing out her gown.  
The sound of steps on wood caught their attention, “I heard that servants passing by the bottom of your tower could hear you screaming like a whore for quite some time,” Joffery looked at Sansa, and she gazed back unflinchingly.  
“I’m sure, My King, that you have given similar pleasure to your Queen?” Tyrion remarked, drawing in Joffery’s attention.  
“Indeed I do, dear uncle.”  
“My King, my Queen, please allow you to give you our gift,” Sansa spoke up, and Shae beside Sansa handed a box to her. She presented it to Margery, and the woman eagerly opened it. Inside resided two rings side by side one was a profile of a lion wearing a crown with a ruby in his mouth, and the other faced the opposite direction, and was a smaller lioness with it’s own ruby.  
“How did you ever come up with such a gift?” The Queen cooed, handing the box to a servant, and retrieving the lioness ring to place it on her right hand. “I have never seen anything like it.”  
“Tyrion and I discussed a design with the royal jeweler and he made it possible.”  
“Joffery, what do you think?”  
He pursed his lips, and looked as though he was caught between being rude and appeasing his wife. “They are handsome indeed.”  
“I hope you see the lions and remember the devotion of the Lannisters,” Tyrion remarked, leading Sansa and himself away finally.  
They walked through the gardens and paid courtesies to everyone who addressed them, and dodged gazes from those who seemed to question the validness of the rumors. Sansa tried to smile, and realized that she could only seem to think about the evening before with Sandor.  
“I’m sorry, about that conversation with Margery,” Sansa apologized, “I had no idea I was so...incredibly loud.”  
Tyrion stopped in his steps and turned to her, urging her to a bench that was nearby, “I’m not sure if I am mad or jealous” he admitted, a chuckle escaping him.  
“Pardon?” Sansa’s eyes went wide.  
“There are not very many women who can claim that their first time was so pleasurable that half the castle could hear them. In addition to that, I get that claim to fame, so it really isn’t so bad. But it begs the question: could I have made it as pleasurable for you as he did?”  
Sansa was silent, not sure how to reply. The topic was strange and they were still out attending the party.  
“... I think that if I wanted you like her, then you could have quite possibly made it very much like that.”  
“My dear wife, you make an excellent point.”  
>:3  
Sandor drank from his wine skin as he listened to guards nearby, talking about the only topic that any of they seemed to catch their interest. Lady Sansa.  
He had not seen her yet, but he heard of her all day as word of the events from last night were let loose by a few maids having walked by in the middle of the night. There was so much speculation, but of course none of it was true. People thought Tyrion might have really big endowment. Or sense Sansa was a maiden that she could enjoy how small he really was. Some of the other ideas were too crude, even for him.  
"I bet she faked every moment of it. There is no way that any woman, Lady or whore, could scream that much without some of it being fake.”  
“I could make her scream that much, you must be lame in the sack.”  
“All your whores are big fakers-- I pay them extra to scream extra loud.”  
The two guards started arguing, and Sandor shook his head, annoyed at the comments. “There is no way she was faking...” he muttered to himself and walked along the outside of the garden, watching the Lords and Ladies. He finally caught a view of Sansa’s hair looming over everyone else by a few inches, but she was in the middle of the garden talking to Margery...and the little shit.  
Oh God, they probably knew by now. He could only hope that the rendition of the story they heard was of Tyrion, and not by some ‘mystery lover’. This worried him to no end. He doubted Sansa had heard anything about it, but beneath the popular rumors were a few underlying ones. Rumors suspecting that there was someone else involved. No one had any idea who though, and that seemed to be his saving grace. It appeared as though things could carrying on as is no one else ever got wind of his evening activities. He should start using the secret passage to go in and out though. It did not draw attention, and the secret door led to a garden closet.  
He started to approach the platform too, in case he was needed. By the time he was halfway there, they had departed from the royal couple. He stared at Sansa, knowing it would not be overly suspicious of him to be watching them both. The crowd broke apart momentarily for him to catch a glance at her in the new gown. It was too far away to get a good look, but he noticed that she was drawing attention, just like he said she would. He looked away and turned toward the King and Queen, and realized that the queen was staring at him. She did not look away immediately and remembered the conversation a few weeks ago. He humored her and smiled.  
She seemed a little surprised, and smiled gently, returning her attention to the crowd before her.  
>:3  
Sansa wanted to blame her dress for the way she felt.  
Or maybe it was Shae’s fault for what she had done to her earlier that day.  
But mostly it was the thought of Sandor.  
Despite the mild comfortable chill to the evening, Sansa felt hot. When she asked Tyrion if he felt hot, he said that the weather was perfect. She was not sure what caused it this evening, but she felt absolutely needy. Part of her really really wanted Sandor to just kidnap her to her chambers and repeat the night before.  
The silks of her dress were contributor, definitely. Something about the way it rubbed her bare skin was intimate, and every movement added to her build up. In addition the gardens were crowded, and she hated to admit he was right...but he was. On several occasions she had been boldly groped, but she never caught them doing it. Strange as it was, part of it excited her.  
That thought disturbed her, especially since she had suffered the humiliation of being stripped in front of some of these people.  
Her favored dark figure loomed near and she was considering disappearing, if only for a bit. Tyrion was in discussion with some other lords, so she weaved through the crowd towards the man. He seemed to notice her approaching, and made a motion to walk towards a more remote area of the party. They met at a small secluded area with a bench. There was a trellis that surrounded the area, and when you looked at it, you would not know that there was someone there. You could however see someone approaching if you were on the opposite side. That appealed to Sandor in their meeting.  
As soon as Sansa appeared around the corner, he grasped her wrist and pressed her closely. He released a small groan of satisfaction as his hand wandered across the fabric around her body. She melted to his touch, biting her lip to prevent her from being overly vocal. A gasp escaped her though then Sandor put her at arms length suddenly.  
Nervously Sansa licked her lips as she saw his gaze molest her. He bent down and started kissing and nipping her roughly, and daringly he sucked on her nipple through the fabric of the dress. She gripped his hair as she breathed heavily from his actions, and his hand grabbed her perfect bottom as his mouth sought her other bud.  
After a few moments, he stood up straight, and then took a step back and sat on the bench. His breath was heavy and his eyes were dark with a worshipping gaze towards her, but they held fear.  
“I have no fucking idea what came over me, I saw you in that dress...I was wrong about being able to control myself.”  
“...I wanted it though,” she took a few steps forward and was well within his reach. “I want more...my body aches for it. What have you done to me?”  
“I have turned the wolf into a dog. Do not say any more. You sound like you are begging.”  
“I am, though. Is that so wrong?”  
She seized his head and kissed him deeply. She opened her lips and sucked on his lower lip, and he growled wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. Sansa broke the kiss, and he buried his face the fabric against her stomach.  
Sandor could smell her desire.  
Eagerly he slipped his hand up her inner leg and eyes went wide when his hand met it’s destination. Abruptly he lifted her entire dress, “Sandor!” she protested, and he gawked at what he saw. The thick patch of curls that once was, was no longer there. He ran his thumb over her from front to back, and a small moan escaped her.  
The grasp he had on the dress was released, and he took a deep breath.  
“Do...you not like it?”  
He did not speak for a moment.  
“When is this party suppose to end?”  
“I don’t know, after some toasts are made by Margery and Joffery, why?”  
He looked at her, more serious than he had been in her presents for some time, “When this party is over, and everyone has gone to their chambers, I will come to you. If the whole fucking castle hears you, then so be it.”  
“I wish you would do it now.”  
“Do not dare say that little bird. You will be getting far more than bargained for.”  
She slid into his lap, and he nuzzled her while keeping an eye out for anyone who got near. They sat there for a long time it felt like, but they could hear the crowd start to stir as it seemed that the royal couple were ready to speak.  
“I should go out there. Will you accompany me when it is safe? There are many wandering hands tonight.”  
Her loyal man only nodded, and released her. Sansa gave him a quick kiss and walked away to join the party.  
>:3  
The sliding of the bookcase startled her, and her eyes grew wide with the image of Sandor panting. She slipped down off the bed and they met each other halfway. Fiercely they kissed and held each other, Sandor nipping and biting her lips until they were plump and red. They continued like that for a great while until they absolutely needed breath.  
“You left the dress on for me I see.”  
“I thought...that you might like it.”  
“I love it. I loved being able to see you like that. Your admirers made me jealous, though. I saw all the attention you were receiving and only wanted your image for my pleasure only.” His fingers idly slipped down and rubbed the fabric. In the light of her room, the pink rosey color of her nipple were viewable to him, and milky skin was so easily seen where the fabric did not gather. He growled lifting her up, and in response she wrapped her legs around his waist as he made way for the bed.  
Sansa felt mildly surprised when he sat back on the bed to hold her in his lap. Untying the leather barrier started, and it felt like their fingers could not move quickly enough. Before long his clothing and armor was removed and Sandor pulled her form into his and leaned back onto the bed. Her figure was still covered, but that only seemed to feed his eager behavior. She slid her legs into a straddle across his hips, and he groaned he felt her core and all of its heat.  
Sandor slid his hands up her thighs, pulling the dress up with them. He saw her yet again, and still seemed shocked by the lack of hair, “What in the world possessed you do it?”  
She blushed, “I...told Shae about you did last night…she said that you might like it. Do you like it?”  
“There is something very innocent about you, but this makes you seem so…” there were no words for it in his vocabulary. Giving up on trying to explain how it made him feel, his thumb sought out her clit, and slowly started to tease it.  
Sansa’s breathing became heavy with the attention, but he focused on the view. Her skin was flushed, her nipples pressed against the fabric of her dress in a very pronounced fashion, and sweet little cunt nestled against his cock. “Sandor,” she whimpered, unsure of what to do with herself. Her eyes met his momentarily and she looked a little bashful, her own hands sliding up her body and grabbing her own breasts, squeezing them.  
He watched in wonder as she boldly pinched her own nipple and it made him buck up against her. A wanton moan left her but she continued to look at him, as if she wanted to say something. Before she could though, she bit her lip trying to hold in a scream as she orgasmed. She collapsed onto him, and he pulled her close, and they laid on their sides.  
For a long time they stared at one another trying to read each other’s thoughts. They gave each other a soft kiss. Then another. Soon it were as they could not be separated as Sandor got on top of her, his lips hardly leaving her, if they did it was only to bite her. He pressed his ache against her inner thigh, and groaned as she shifted her hips to invite him in. Propping his elbow on either side of her head, he entered her, eliciting a loud moan from her. She wrapped her arms around him, and his pace began to quicken, she started to dig her nails across his back. He growled and maneuvered an arm underneath of her so that their bodies could press against each other more so.  
Thrust for thrust her pitch started to escalate, and to his surprise, he wanted to make her louder. Hoping for the very result he wanted, he changed the angle slightly by lowering his arm under her to her ass, and she grew much louder. Then she bit him.  
“Oh fuck, Sansa,” he went as fast as he could, provoked by the mild pain of her grip and bite.  
He felt her constrict around him, and he could hardly think as he sought release. Their hips moved together slowly and roughly as her walls claimed his seed. She closed her eyes as she hooked her legs tighter to his thighs in an attempt to help calm the need that was fading with their shared climax.  
Only their breathes echoed in the chamber, and she started to murmur. “That did not go that way last time.”  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His face buried in her hair as usual as he muttered these obscenities. “I did not intend to do that.”  
“I know...but that felt so good.”  
He lifted his face out of her hair, “What?”  
“I could feel you...filling me up. It was wonderful. It makes me feel even more lustful for you.”  
Sandor pushed away her hair, and pressed his forehead to her, “You have no idea what affect your words like that have on me. I want you all over again.”  
“You may have me as many times as you want.”  
>:3  
“Sansa, you really need to lower your volume,” Shae tutted, waking the two of them, “and Sandor, I know you encourage it.”  
“I have done no such thing.”  
“Tyrion disagrees,” the smirk wiped right off of his. “He says that he could tell that you purposely did something to get her to do it.”  
Sandor said nothing, and started to get dressed as Sansa blushed. Shae looked at them as she ‘tsk tsk’ at their behavior. “Next time you are so loud, I will come interrupt you two.” Sansa could only nod in understanding, and leaned on Sandor as he tied his boots. He had not bothered with his tunic yet, and she could see the various scratches and one angry bruise from her first bite. Gently, she gave it a kiss.  
“Does it hurt?”  
“Not really.”  
“Shae, do I have any plans today?” She dispersed more kisses on his back, and lightly traced designs on his back with her finger tips.  
The handmaiden looked up at her quizzically, “Not till late in the afternoon. The Queen wishes to have tea, and promised lemon cakes.”  
Sansa selfishly wished she could keep to herself in her chambers all day with Sandor, but knew that he had his own business to attend. “Alright.”  
“Would you like to wear your new dress? The Queen had it sent a little while ago, but you have not worn it yet.”  
“Okay,” she smiled getting out of the bed. She stood nude at the balcony doors, her hair dancing in the light breeze. Sandor could not remove his gaze from her. She was flawless in every way possible as his eyes glided down. There were a set bruises, almost mirroring each other on her hips. Exactly where his fingers had been during their third round.  
He considered the possibility of not being so rough.  
But Tyrion was right, he really loved to make her scream.  
>:3  
Sandor sat near Bronn to eat. He was still a little annoyed with the man and his attitude, but he had enough respect for the guy, especially after Blackwater. That and he was much better company than the rest of the morons about. Bronn offered him wine, and he took it. The lunch in the hall was quiet and there were not many people around. They sat at their own table alone.  
“You’re quite a sly dog,” Bronn said, not breaching as to what he was referring to, but Sandor felt weary.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“I had guard duty in the tower last night.”  
A heavy silence hung between them, and Sandor was not sure whether to kill him, or not.  
“You might want to keep the volume down, lest one of Varys’ little birds hear it. Don’t worry though, there was no one around the hall, and you can only hear one of you using names if you are close enough to the door.”  
Sandor remained silent, unnerved that he had been figured out, and so quickly. How did Jaime and Cersei do this? He stared at Bronn finally, and the man cracked a small grin. He was not sure if Bronn could be trusted with such knowledge.  
“Tyrion knows, if you were thinking of saying anything to him.”  
“I heard. Was present when Shae informed him a few weeks ago.”  
So Bronn has known for awhile.  
“And it wasn’t me who spread the rumor of our lady taking a lover, it was pure speculation by the maids who heard yesterday morning.”  
“You aren’t going to say anything?”  
Bronn laughed, “Tyrion pays me more than enough to keep his and his wife’s secrets.” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “So tell me, how did you get the finest Lady in the court?”  
“I don’t have a clue.” It was true, and whenever he did think about it, it confused him. What had he done to capture her interest? He had saved her. Numerous times. Made fun of her. Mocked her courtesies. Given her a nickname. Defended her honor.  
“C’mon, there must have been something.”  
“I have prevented her death many a time now.”  
“That’s it?”  
“I’m honest to her.”  
“Most women don’t like that.”  
Sandor nodded in agreement. But she does. Sansa really was different from most women in court. She was adept at pleasing everyone in the court, but at the same time the ones who truly looked could see through her little tune. No one judged her for it, either. Everyone that saw through her facade wanted to help, maybe help themselves while they were at it, but regardless she somehow convinced people that they wanted to help her with anything and everything.  
It wasn’t until that evening of Blackwater had he realized that she had become somewhat adept at outright manipulation. She had almost convinced Joffery to join the front lines. Then she did it again an evening near a year ago she outright manipulated Margery into giving him over to Tyrion and herself. There had been a look in her eye, like she had a plan, and it was about to succeed. It did though. She got him.  
That thought process struck him hard.  
She had always wanted him.  
The Hound choked on his sip of wine, and Bronn stared at him questioningly.  
He had to be alone; he was just far too confused.  
>:3  
“Sansa, are you with us?”  
The auburn hair girl turned to who was addressing her, Margery. “What?”  
“You sweet thing, where are your thoughts today, hm?”  
“No where, I just don’t seem to have a sense of focus at all today. I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”  
“Nothing of importance,” she smiled, “but I must say, I really do adore your gift,” she said and held out her hand in the light to look at once again. “So beautiful and unique. I will have to think of someway to raise the stakes when I give you your name day gift. It’s soon, yes?”  
“Well yes, it is, but my lady grace, that is unnecessary.”  
“Sansa, you decline my gifts?”  
“Not decline, discourage,” she smiled endearingly.  
Margery looked up at her maids and servers, and with motion they left the room. Sansa wanted to question her motivation behind the action, but figured she would know why soon enough. She sipped her wine lightly, and then sighed.  
“You have to tell me Sansa, how is it?”  
“Whatever do you mean, my lady grace?” Sansa was really confused, and she seemed to be leading onto something.  
“I know about you, and I know it isn’t the little Lannister that has been keeping your bed warm. How is he,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “your lover, the Hound?”  
Words failed her as she blushed fiercely. Fear almost started to run through her, unsure of what repercussions she could be facing if word was out that she took another man into her bed before her husband. Margery ‘shh’, and wanted to quell her fear. “Sansa, I only know because I have have many pieces of information, I doubt Varys even has a proper clue.”  
“What do you mean?” She subconsciously smoothed out her skirts, and looked the queen in the eye. She was not sure she knew what she meant, but she was hesitant to say anything. Margery has never given her a reason not to trust her, and has never betrayed her word before though.  
“Sansa, when you offered to take him off our hands that evening almost a year ago, I thought nothing of it. But curiosity got the better of me later on. I heard all of the hearsay about him, and his particular treatment of you. Men fear to even bring up the topic in his presents, lest they make an enemy of him.  
“So I watched you two carefully for months afterwards, wanting to know exactly what there was between you two. What made him so soft for you? What was it about him that put you at ease?”  
She had no idea how to respond to the Queen and her words. Her mind raced, and all of a sudden, words tumbled from her lips like water down and thirsty man’s throat. “He wanted to take me away from King’s Landing the night of the Battle of Blackwater. He had hidden away in my chambers, he had deserted, he feared the fire so much. Everything was burning. I didn’t want to leave though, if Stannis had won, I might have been safe, and even able to return to Winterfell.”  
“He didn’t leave though, why is that? Obviously, no one knew of his deserting, or they didn’t survive.”  
“Tyrion knew, but I don’t know why he never said anything about it.”  
“I certainly wouldn’t say anything about it. Why lose a man worth 20 soldiers? But Sansa, you have to answer my original question, what is he like behind close doors?”  
Sansa thought about how to answer. “He’s the perfect lover.”  
“How so? I can’t imagine that it’s at all pleasant. He so gruff and...not handsome.”  
She leaned in closer to Margery, and in return the woman scooted her seat in, “He’s tender and gentle, and very thorough.”  
“What do you mean thorough?”  
“He looks at me with a hunger that makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. His hands have touched every inch of my body in worship. He humors me when I need it, gives me honest council, and has comforted me in my darkest times here. And never has he wanted to hurt me like the men of the kingsguard have so enjoyed in the past.”  
Margery looked stunned by her words, a certain amount of awestruck and envy crossing her face, before settling a gentle smile. “Is it really big?”  
Sansa sipped from her goblet to cover her blush, and nodded.  
“Joffery is well, small, compared to some, but he’s normal I suppose. He can be a bit too rough for any girl’s taste, and isn’t adept at any particular...pleasuring. I would get him a whore, but I know what happened the first time, and the time after that.” She appeared very sullen for a moment, but a tiny grin appeared, “I do seem to be a bit skilled at shutting him up right and good.”  
“How so?”  
“I use my mouth,” she whispered, “it feels similar to sex for them apparently, but with an added bonus of a tongue.”  
“Tongue…” Sansa pondered for a moment, “Sandor did that the other night. Didn’t exactly shut me up though, did it?” She snorted, despite the bit of embarrassment lingering from the majority of the castle hearing of her session.  
“Is that what he was doing? I must say, that’s an even braver man than I could imagine.”  
“Shae, my handmaiden, she says that very few men are willing to do it, and even fewer can do it well. He is of a minority amongst men I must say.”  
“I wonder if...no I truly doubt Joffery could be skilled at such an activity.”  
“I imagine it would be quite awkward if he did not do very well at it.”  
“Indeed,” Margery laughed, “though I think he would do well tied up, with no way to escape. I often fantasize about committing such an act towards him, but I do fear he would be rather upset.”  
“...Not if he ended up liking it.” An off-setting twinkle appeared in Sansa’s eye, “I think I’d rather enjoy such an idea myself Margery. I wonder if I could turn Sandor into a whimpering pile of need as he did to me.”  
“I would not believe it if you did. Though perhaps it wouldn’t be so unbelievable. I have seen the way he looks at you. Like there is nothing else in the room.” She popped a grape in her mouth, “oh which reminds me, he smiled at me last night. At the party. I suppose that was in his own way a name day gift.”  
They both laughed, amused with the idea. “What a simple gift, but did it please you?”  
“You know it did. I think I got a small glimpse of understanding of you two.”  
>:3  
Sandor was unnerved as he prowled around the dark gardens, killing time until he could slip into the tower and see his Little Bird.  
Who had used every bit of power and manipulation she contained to gain him.  
He gulped at the thought. She was almost terrifying, having such control over his life. That had never bothered him about the Lannisters, but for some reason with Sansa doing it, he felt used. And violated.  
And damn it all, he liked it.  
No matter what she did, he was the one that caused her to beg for more, moan his name, and scream while drowning in her lust. His thoughts stirred into more, and he wanted her right then. She played the Little Bird, and played the game, but it was him reaping the benefits of getting to enjoy her body almost every night. Sansa wanted him, and that was a turn on that he had never had the pleasure of.  
The Hound checked around and slipped into the garden shed and found the secret door. Quickly, but without running, he made his way up the stairs, his own lust urging him on. He came upon the sliding door, and opened it quietly. He noticed that she had not realized his presence, but was sitting on the bed seemingly inspecting her own body. Sansa was sitting up on her knees that were spread enough to give view to her sex, but was grabbing her breast and experimenting with a nipple between her fingers.  
“Mmm” she hummed, “I wonder if there is a way to make them bigger.”  
In a curious, and almost innocent way, her hand trailed down her body to reach between her thighs. He could see her fingers feeling the different folds, and Sandor felt himself inwardly groan at her simple actions. She was mumbling to herself, and he couldn’t quite hear her, “it was...here? ...like this I think...I know I like it when he does this…”  
“And what is it exactly that I do?” He asked, starling her. Sansa blushed, and retracted her hand away from her body, nervously biting her bottom lip. Then a broad smile erupted on her lips, and Sandor could not stop himself from smiling.  
“Everything, quite perfectly might I add,” he was taking his boots off as his eyes never left her lips, “I wanted to ask you, I am going to request Tyrion to consider making preparations to make repairs to Winterfell. It lies vacant and ashen, and regardless of their liking of any Lannisters right now, the people of the North need support.”  
“Ah, so the wolf may return to her den?”  
She gave him a look as he dropped the last of his clothing on the ground, and she prowled forward on the bed on all four, “I would, perhaps in a year I produce a cub or two, and then do what I really want to do, if you’re interested that is.”  
The Clegane man looked at the woman with a keen interest, “and what would that be?”  
“Make a few pups.”  
His already erect arousal twitched at her words as he stood there, almost dumbfounded at her boldness. Quickly he bound to the bed and was upon her, laughter filling the room with warmth. He covered her in kisses as she feigned attempts at escaping his grasp. They were tangled in each other’s arms, and a contentedness flowed through them.  
>:3  
Tyrion pursed his lips. He had been unsure if he had made the right decision. He wanted to please Sansa by rebuilding in the ruins of Winterfell, and that was what he did. He missed the city though. He had gotten so very good at playing the game, and he had come to rather enjoy it. Though he wanted to spite his father, Tyrion knew that by leaving the city he was doing exactly what his father wanted him to do. The months had been very rough in the capital though, and after a string of events, it was Tommen on the throne.  
He had been saved though. Varys had reason to believe that it would have been Tyrion pinned with Joffery’s murder had he remained there.  
Lands of his own to manage though. Winterfell he thought, it was not so bad a place to be. They expedited fine carpenters to make as it once was, and slowly bannermen came forth. He was not fooled; they only came for Sansa. She was the only known existing Stark though, and they still had high respects for the girl. The Lady was right though, Winter was coming, and the people needed a Warden of the North.  
Tyrion released a breath he had been suppressing, and he turned to his wife to gently grasp her hand. It was a mild touch, one he knew Sandor would not be too jealous over, and it showed the public their marriage. He inwardly chuckled at the duo rings sitting on her ring finger. Two silver bands, each with three stones. One with rubies, the other of black onyx.  
Sansa had finished addressing the farmer who had come forth to plead for assistance, the hall emptied save for a few guards, and Sandor.  
“Everyone, leave the hall, stay close though.”  
They filed out, and Sansa gave a warm smile to their sworn shield. His expression did not falter, but it was not hard like it use to be in the presence of Joffery. Tyrion gained her attention though, and they stared at one another for but a moment. After the door closed, the shared a gentle kiss.  
“My Lady, your 17th name day approaches, and I know that I cannot outdo Margery and her...creativity, but I wanted to know if you had any requests.”  
She laughed a little, “no my Lord, but I think this is the year that I may bare a child. After Shae is done, that is” she teased Tyrion, and he still had a bashful expression, “that would be my gift to you.”  
“A child?”  
“No, for us not to be with child at the same time,” she stuck her tongue out, and he chuckled at her joke.  
“You don’t want anything though?”  
“There is nothing particularly out there that I so desire. I have everything I want. Though, I suppose I could request for something.”  
“Anything Sansa.”  
“Your reassurance that you do not mind if I bare a child of Sandor’s, after yours.”  
“You’re seriously asking me that when Shae is laying in bed right now, getting rounder by the day with my bastard? If it wouldn’t draw so much damn attention by my father, I’d let you have his first.”  
They smiled at each other, a silence lingering for but a moment. “How are our stocks looking for the winter?”  
“Well, since discovering that silo that somehow went untouched by the fires of the Greyjoy invasion, I’d say not so bad. It looks as though it’ll last 6 years with what North has pooled together. And with the Stark vault untouched do to it’s hidden location, I’d say we’ll be able to import anything we need if the winter lasts any longer than that.”  
“Excellent, I was worried. A heard lots of herders have headed towards the neck, but they aren’t going too far from Winterfell. They know that the snows will be lesser there, but still tradeable with us if need be.”  
They got up, and decided to leave the hall, after a short embrace at the doors, they parted their ways and attended to different aspects of the stronghold.  
>:3  
Months rolled into years, and Winter eventually came to an end.  
Sansa stood with her three children, her hand touching her stomach as if to feel the forth. Her boy would be seven on his upcoming name day. He had fiery hair and piercing green eyes, and already taller than his father. Shae’s son, and mine as well, she reminded herself, he had just turned seven. The boy was just a smidge shorter than the Stark boy, but it seemed his wild and uncontained curls made up for it.  
He looked a bit like Jon, and Sansa thought that is was a little ironic.  
Already her daughter ran off. She was just like Arya, except this time she looked like a Tully. Maybe it was a first daughter thing.  
She looked down at her swelling abdomen, it had already been seven moon cycles they suspected, only a few more to go. She knew this one would look like her father Eddard, but be as tall as the father. Taller most likely.  
The boys ran off, bored of waiting for the men to be finished taking care of the horses after their hunting trip. Sansa stood waiting though, and smiled at the men as they cleaned up their horses and put away equipment. She finally caught Sandor’s eye, and gave him a wink as she left the training yard. With patient steps she made it to her chambers, warmed thoroughly with the hot water flowing through the walls of Winterfell.  
Sansa rested in her bed, and sang a hymn to herself as she worked on her bedside needlework. The echos of boys and men working and playing in the training yard reached her window, and she smiled at the joy of the boys. The clang of footsteps resounded through stairwell leading up to her chambers, and they were heavy, alerting her of exactly who was approaching. He opened the door quickly and closed it, a thud of the bolt clanging.  
They stared at each other, and Sansa stopped breathing as she saw the intensity of his eye unravel. Sandor strided across the room, and knelt on the ground beside the bed to seize a kiss from her. “I must have you now” was all he said as he started to strip.  
“Sandor, not now” she declined coyly, “it will be so difficult with me being so very big.”  
They both smiled, and he wore nothing as he lifted her to the center of the bed, her needlework abandoned on the table once more, “you know the bigger you get, the more beautiful you become, especially all round with my child this time. I can’t get enough of you.” He started with her feet, kissing them, and slowly he crept up her legs. The ties on the dress were undone, and she started to slip out of the gown. He growled when he reached her hips, pleased with the lack of small clothes.  
He stopped though, marveling at her shape. She had gotten so big this time. There were guesses that there could be two. Sandor chuckled at that thought. No, only one, Clegane children are just overly large.  
She gave him a questioning look, “fear that there is more than one?”  
“Fear? Yes. Do I think that there is? Not so much. Sandor moved up the bed, and pulled her close, the babe between them.  
He looked into her eyes, “this is more than I asked for.”  
“Well then it must have been what I asked for.” They kissed, and it was as sweet as the spring around them.


End file.
